The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-10-02
"The Cabin in the Clearing"

Literature is not q thing of geographical
m etes and bounds. The writer may have a mes
cage for those beyond the borders of his own
home, and often finds his best audience outside
of the circle nearest him. There is nothing in
the mere fact that ones neighoor has written q
book that places other neighbors under obliga-
ton to read the volume. The fact, however, is
sufficient to suggest the probability that tbs
work contains something especially adapted to
their needs. For literature, If it is genuine.
must partake, to some degree, of the nature Of
the soil. 1t may meet the wants please the
taste OF those afar off. but its best meaning must
be for them who share the authors experiences,
who live under like conditions, and who under
stand and appreciate not only the thoughts ex-
pressed but the motive which inspires the utter
ance. writer, for instance, whose life has been
spent in Indiana must have something to say
which will interest Indianians more than others.
When Mr.. Benjamin S. Parker writes of THE
Cabin in the Clearing" which gives its name to
his new book. it is the cabin in an Indiana clear
ing that pictures itself to the mind OF the ''old
settler" backward gazing through the shadows"
Il is the Hoosier pioneer in whose memory
blooms the redbird
BY the doorway
and for whom
Tinzes with the spicewoods odor
And the catbrds melodies
1t is these same ''gray pioneers" whom he
halls through the msts of passing years." and
celebrates their tolls and their rewards. OF
them he sings
''You found q wilderness of mighty woods.
Thick with giant and tangled vines,
With brush and weeds; where all the vernal floods
OF driftchoked streams. o erfiowing their confines
or bank and channel, filed the oozy swamps.
stagnated ard grew foul in Summer heat,
Bred toIrid fevers. agues frigid cramps
Till death oft TO Garken and defeat"
1t is not only the lines which addressed to
the early settlers that must commend them
selves to the attention Of those whose years
passing on. Many other verses. like the 'Old
THANKSGIVING and the ''Sone of the Imprisoned
Thrush are sweetly retrospective, aud recall
1.-THE mirage of lotus land.
a land where onoe we troled the song
Ills morning and the days are long"
This poem, from which the last quotation is
made, is one of the most widely-known OF Mr..
Parksr's productions, ana has attained that fat
tering but yet hardly satisfactory degree of pop
ularity which nanifests itself in 6. frequent
reappearance in print with the authors name
omitted. Now that its place in this volume
gives no excuse for such errors. it may be hoped
that due credit will be given hereafter.
There is one popularity of Mr.. Parksr's poems
which distinguishes them from the work of
many modern versifers. They pervaded
almost without exception with a teDuer melan-
choly. of which the writer is perhaps uncon-
scious, but which is not unnatural result in
the case of one who has taken seriously the
busy life in whose in tervals the verses were
duced. In spite OF this touch of sadness, how
ever, and which, by the way. is a charm rather
than fault. there is none of the gloom that
often mars otherwise perfect poems. IL doubt
has entered his soul it has not found expression
1t is the spirit of faith in God and man and not
the speculatious OF the aenostic which is voiced
again and again in this volume. In the poem
'At Forty" he regrets the delight of the
youth that is past, but concludes that
''Iifes bitter wine is far better at forty
Than nectar youth quafed IN its most bouquet.
For then all our good lay creed and party,
Butt thanks sorrow, chcerfuly
Whatever God places right plainly before us
To rise with the future, tremble and fall
That way shall be while lift up the chorus
Again be. sings.
Rise. Soul TO thse is given
Stormy hades glorious heay, n,
Swiftest joy and sharpest woe,
Flowing tears ard ripping laughter,
All the present. the hereafter
Blooming from some bud Of promise
Blown from heaven long ago;
And the bu idnG, sirging seasons
Give thee only sweetest
10 assure thy trembling faith
That beyond all dark disaster
Love is still the eternal master,
And through all tho endless ages
Life is victor DEATH
! be hoped that the Journal readers viii mako &C